


Scotch

by crystalblinks (orphan_account)



Series: Cigarettes and Paradise [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Background Relationships, Domestic Fluff, M/M, POV Bruce Banner, POV First Person, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Science Boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:50:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/crystalblinks
Summary: I met him in a bar two hours after sunset.





	

I met him in a bar two hours after sunset. His eyes were tired and vacant in a way not associated with the scotch in his glass and I’d wondered if he’d even taken a sip from the glass he was gently swirling in his left hand. He said his name was Tony with a wave of his free hand and a smile that wasn’t really a smile, more of a courtesy than anything. 

***

He told me once that he’d drank until his liver gave out and so did his heart and that the only thing that saved him was money. He told me once that he abhorred money, never gave it away let it gather interest in his many bank accounts, but he never really liked it. Tony rarely used his pocket book for anything other than food or his nightly scotch that he never drank.

***

It was pure luck that we’d ended up where we did, sprawled on a motel bed in the middle of Arizona, lazily fucking while the sun filtered through the windows highlighting all the dust and sin of the place. He’d kiss me, thrust, moan, cuss, kiss, thrust, moan, cuss, like a mantra or a prayer and it was pure luck that I’d ended up where I did, wrapped up in his proverb. 

***

On our tenth date he slid a chip across the table and said, “Bruce, I’m an alcoholic.” The chip was for five years and counting and I lamented that he was an alcoholic, that his abuse was past tense, but he scoffed and galnced at his drinks, a half full cherry coke and an untouched glass. “Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. You’re never fully cured from something like this.”

***

Neither of us had family for the other to meet, mine had died from old age and his from wealth and bastardry so we settled for an introduction of friends. Steve didn’t like him, said he was too arrogant, while Sam was booming praises of a man he’d only known for an hour and a half. While Tony’s friends T'Challa and Bucky seemed to like me well enough, but also seemed relieved to have a night away from the screaming and crying of their newborn son. 

***

It was midnight when we’d found the lavender field. He’d taken me to England on a whim, said it was the only place in his childhood that he had happy memories. He’d told me he wanted to make more with me. So we drove and drove looking for a hotel he’d said was in the countryside when we’d stumbled upon the vast island of purple. He’d laid out a blanket a close to the center as we could get. And I remember the inhale and the exhale of his I love you’s the ones laced with lavender.

***

We never got married. Tony’d damned the institution, and I’d never understood it’s reasoning, so we lived together loved and fought together in small town in the middle of Arizona, in a house that would always smell like sin and lavender. And when we were old and frail with experience laid out and rotting in the light of our last days I was always there to pour his glass of scotch.


End file.
